Easy
by CatsbytheGreat
Summary: AU for LWW. Edmund sees just how easily the future can change for the worst.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or Narnia. **

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Edmund saw the past and the future all in one moment, and he wished it was better than this.

He closed his eyes and whispered, "Please, please, _please_ let it just be a dream._ Please_."

He opened his eyes.

They were still not moving.

Edmund inched slowly towards them, not sure if they were real and not wanting to find out. For a moment, just a moment, he had control over this. He could go forward as slowly as he wanted and, for a few minutes, go on believing that everything could be fine. He knew that in a few moments his future would be determined. And he also knew he had to move forward no matter how much he didn't want to, because time would go on anyway.

He stopped. In the darkness it was hard to tell. He was an inch away from Lucy's still form, and he stared hard for a moment. She didn't move. He reached out, hand shaking, to touch her and hesitated. Did he want to do this? His hand moved forward and touched her cheek. It was cold.

"Oh, my…." Edmund gasped and drew his hand back. "No." He closed his eyes and tried to make the feeling go away. He tried to convince himself that he hadn't just felt Lucy's cold skin, that he didn't know yet and there was still a chance. Then he opened his eyes and found himself staring into her face, and knew that there was no chance. Not for her, anyway. He still had two more to go.

Susan was lying just behind Lucy, her black hair standing out against the white snow, even in the dark. Her eyes were closed. _She's sleeping_, Edmund thought, but his thoughts were shaky and half-formed and hardly logical. He didn't know what to believe any more.

Again, he repeated the same process he had with Lucy. His hand brushed her hair first, hoping that she might stir at this and at the same time knowing that she wouldn't. It was never that easy. He would have to touch her. All at once he didn't want to, but he forced his hand to her cheek. Like Lucy's, it was cold. Edmund swallowed and forced back a sob.

"Is this hard?" a cool voice whispered in his ear. Edmund stiffened as the air around him became suddenly colder and he felt a presence at his back.

"Yes," he whispered.

"And you thought it would be so _easy_."

Edmund choked on his breath because it had been easy. Betraying his siblings had, at first, been _so easy…_

"Just stop," he managed, the words barely intelligible. The Witch heard them, regardless.

"I already have," she told him. "Go on. Touch him." Edmund found himself looking up, past Susan, to the unmoving form of his older brother. Peter.

"No."

He felt cold hands on his arms, wrapping themselves around his wrists. "This won't be hard," she said.

"No!" Edmund screamed, as he was moved towards his brother. He dug his heels into the snow, he struggled against her grip, but try as he might she still moved him forward as easily as if he were a rag doll. As if he were dead. "NO!"

And he was right in front of Peter now, forced into a kneeling position, and one of his hands was being stretched out to touch Peter's face, and Edmund closed his eyes and tried to tell himself that Peter was still alive, that Peter was okay because if Peter wasn't okay then…

Edmund's hand brushed cold skin. The Witch released her hold on him, and he slumped forward onto his dead brother's body.

"There," Jadis whispered into his ear. "Wasn't that _easy_?"

And it all came down on Edmund that there was no hope, that there was no way he could resurrect the dead or ever make up for this because this was too permanent. And the worst part was that it happened so quickly, so easily, that he barely had the time to process it. But now he saw it clearly, saw Jadis for what she was and saw a hopeless future ahead and wished that he was dead. It was all his fault, after all.

Edmund began to sob.

Jadis simply stood up—he heard the rustle of her dress—and chuckled softly. And then she left.

Edmund lay in the midst of his murdered siblings, sobbing and whispering, "Please, please, please, please" over and over and over hoping that someone would hear him and doubting that anyone ever would.

And then the darkness came to take him.

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**Author's Note: Feel free to ignore this bit of note. Just a comment on how the story came to be, because it came about in an odd way. I thought about writing it after listening to Keane's "Crystal Ball" and originally it was supposed to be a story about the Pevensies in England. But then this idea popped up and I forgot about the other one. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. **


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